New Horizon
by kidders
Summary: AU. My version of when Cooper wakes in the station's hospital. Changed it to be more intense, though included a few of the characters who show up in the movie. After a brief reunion with Murph, will send Coop back through the wormhole. Coop has now arrived at Edmunds.
1. Chapter 1

NEW HORIZON

By Kidders

AU: Set after the Tesseract scene, alternate take on the medical setting with Cooper.

A/N: I haven't been this excited about a movie since LOTR. And I didn't see it in the theater, drats! I haven't written anything in a very long time, so may be a bit rusty. Don't know if I'll get Coop all the way to Edmunds. I'm not a shipper, though enjoy the efforts of others.

Rating: T, for brief strong language and medical descriptions.

Note about time: I keep the time Coop spent in the tesseract down to a day or so, relative to his focal point. Don't know for sure how much air their backpacks are meant to supply, but for the purpose of this story, not more than twenty-four hours.

Chapter One: Found

He had the killer of all headaches when he opened his eyes. A doozy, in fact. Not helping in the slightest was the added misery of artificial lighting. Trumping the pain in spades so even barely parting his lashes made it feel like tiny knives were slicing through his pupils all the way to the back of his frigging skull. A groan pushed out past clenched teeth, and when Cooper sucked frantically for another breath, oxygen was there, fresh and cool and sweet, not the stale lifeless molecules he'd struggled with right before passing out, but free and fiercely satisfying, air he could almost taste on his tongue when he tentatively tried to wet his lips. Not just air, he realized. _Atmosphere._ He was no longer confined to a space suit. Since keeping his eyes shut seemed the best approach for now, he slowly breathed in and out, appreciating the freedom he had mostly taken for granted, through the wormhole and beyond, until Mann's planet had harshly slammed home the fact that oxygen was never a limitless commodity during interstellar travel.

Content in the simple pleasure of filling his lungs, Cooper became aware of other sensations. Fingers brushing the inside of his left forearm, something wet and cold, then a sharp sting, enough to make him flinch. Reflex shot his eyes open wide, the halo of brightness from above still gunning full throttle, causing him to gasp as tears burned a cloudy film over his line of sight. Cooper blinked hard, trying like the devil to bring the world back into focus. All he could see was the vague outline of a woman, a woman with red hair.

"Murph?" he croaked, not sure where he was but feeling very lost and alone. Last thing he remembered was being pushed out of the tesseract, left to float in the empty space around Saturn. Hardly any air left. So where the hell was he?

"Oh, you're awake." The woman's voice was unfamiliar, and Cooper felt a hollow pang of disappointment. "Just try and relax. You've been unconscious, but you're safe now. I'm getting an IV started, then we'll try and get you more comfortable. Just keep still, okay?" 

"IV?" Cooper fought to broaden his focus, turning his head slightly on the pillow, finally able to pick out the image of what was clearly a hospital room. And the nurse beside the bed, wearing pink medical scrubs, her curly red hair pulled into a ponytail, was putting tape on his arm and giving him a kind smile. Not Murph. Murph wasn't here. But he was. Had his message gotten through as TARS had predicted? "Wh-where…" Cooper coughed, swallowing hard against the parched dryness in his throat. "Where am I? How am I here?"

The nurse, whose name tag read Adelaide, finished hooking up the tubing to his arm. Her gaze narrowed as she assessed him. "The Rangers found you floating in space. Your O2 tank and respirator were almost depleted. Much longer out there and you wouldn't have survived."

"Yeah, been there before," Cooper mumbled, glancing down at himself to register the BP cuff on one arm, needle in the other. He was dressed in a cotton fiber gown, pale blue, similar to the one he last saw his wife… No. He was _not_ strolling down that particular path of memory lane. Staying current, that was the way to go. And current meant answers to his questions. "Nice deflection, Adel, but a bit too vague for my likin'. This place doesn't feel like Earth. Every piece of equipment I can see is shiny and new. So, I will ask again. Where the hell am I? And how'd I get here?"

Adelaide's eyes widened, smile faltering. "You were pulled in by one of the Rangers, as I said, wearing an older style spacesuits we still have on board. It kept you alive, but what no one can figure out is how you ended up on the wrong side of an airlock in the first place. The station's secure, orbiting Saturn as we have been for the last several months, and no one has been reported missing. So we have questions for you as well. Like for starters, _your_ name, and how _you_ got here."

Station? In orbit around Saturn? Cooper sighed, and closed his eyes, tears still leaking from the corners to gather in a curtain over his eyelashes. _Shit_ , he thought, _the time_ _slippage…I've been gone_ _so long no one remembers me_. An ache flared deep in his bones, his body rippling with strange sensations, almost like pain but distant, a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. So he'd succeeded in sending the quantum data, the station was proof of that…but how long had he really been gone? "My name was on the suit you wrangled me out of," he said quietly, reaching up to gingerly rub his sternum. His chest felt a little tight. Not bad, just weird. "As for how I got here, that's a long story…or a short one, dependin' on your grasp of relativity."

When he looked up, Adelaide's face registered a mix of puzzlement and frank disbelief. "If your name was on the suit…but it just said Cooper."

He gave her a weary smile. "That's my name, just like your station." The last word rolled off his tongue, languidly sardonic, though a touch a pride did warm him from the inside out. "Did ya name it after me, or Murph?"

"You?!" she exclaimed, cheeks flushing a shade darker than her medical uniform. "I'll have you know this station is name for Murphy Cooper, one of the greatest scientists of her generation. Solving the gravity equation was the single most important achievement of the last two hundred years. How could you not know that? Or be so conceited to try and take the credit for yourself?"

Cooper sighed again, his brief surge of energy beginning to fade. "Because Murphy Cooper is my daughter." Swallowing thickly, he hoped like hell he was still correct in saying _is_ and not _was_. "Because I've been gone most of her adult life. I went off into space and left her here-on Earth, rather-while I journeyed in search of us a new place to hang our hat. My daughter was ten years old, Adel, imagine that…" A fresh slew of tears burned down his cheeks, and he forced back a sob. "I believed I had a chance to save my kids…Tom and Murph…accepted the lies the Professor told me because I wanted to get out there so badly, I took what he said on blind faith. I left a y-year ago, but here it's been e-eighty years or more, and now my daughter's dead for all I k-know, my son's probably gone, everyone I ever knew is long dead now…" His throat was awash in tears, a salty echo of a distant, lost home. "…because time…because relativity is such a fucking curse, I'll never get those years back." He finally met Adel's gaze, managed to see she was listening in stunned silence. "To you…to her…I've been gone over eighty years. And it w-won't be enough that I c-came back. It's t-too late, Adel. I've lost too m-much time." Cooper shut his eyes, chest tight, breaths heaving as he fought for control. "Goddamnit!" he swore, choking on a cough. "Relativity is such,,, such a bitch!" Another cough seized him, and this one hurt, so he curled on his side, sobbing and gasping and feeling somehow he wasn't getting enough air.

"Oh, my God!" he heard Adelaide exclaim. "You're Joseph Cooper. I recognize you now. You were in some of my text books in school. Pilot of the Endurance mission. But everyone from that mission was presumed dead, even back then, due to how much time had passed. And you look the same…" A tone of wonder crept into her voice. "You look the same as the picture in my science book."

"Yeah," Cooper wheezed, right hand closing on the bedrail, needing something solid to hang onto. "Einstein's theory…is a r-real—"

"—bitch," Adelaide finished. "Yes, I'm beginning to see that. Listen, Mr. Cooper, your daughter's still alive. She is on another station, and quite elderly, but I can send word you've been found."

A small smile twitched on his lips, and he nodded gratefully. "Please," he whispered. A sense of relief should have eased the torture breathing was becoming, but it seemed to make it worse. Sweat burst from every pore in his body, flooding to soak the gown and the back of his neck. The fight to inhale climbed its way into an oxygen-starved battle, just like it had on Mann's planet. The ammonia breaching his suit, the ice in his throat burning down into his lungs and searing them dry, and no matter how hard he tried, there wasn't any air, just corrosive fumes constricting around his chest, tighter and tighter. His back arched off the ice as his entire body took up the fight, struggling to find a way to feed the hunger even as his conscious mind was shutting down.

He clawed desperately for the long-range communicator. "Brand, help…help! No…no air…ammonia!" His vision tunneled. Leaving only sky grey-blue above and the cold beneath. No surface…never a surface. Mann was a lying sack of shit, and he was …dead. Mann was dead, and so, Cooper thought, was he. Had to detach, fall into that black hole. "'Melia, we…we agreed…ninety…n-ninety percent." Throat closing up, ribs being crushed by the intense gravity, Cooper was choking and coughing and dying in slow motion. Unlike Lazarus, there was no coming back from this. He coughed long and hard, gasping around the gurgle bubbling out from his windpipe, thrashing his arms and legs, and fighting with everything he had to draw each and every breath. Another cough, and he felt wetness on his lips. "No…n-no…can't br-breathe!"

"Cooper, listen to me!" Not Amelia, who? "I'm going to raise the head of the bed." A mask was pushed over his nose and mouth, and the pressurized airflow managed to pump a tiny quota of O2 into his lungs. Not nearly enough, only taking a slight edge off his panic. "Slow, deep breaths, Cooper. Come on, nice and easy. Work with me."

Easy, deep breaths? Did Adel have a humor setting? Cooper tried to follow the sound of her voice, he really did. The dull roar in his ears was fading to a faint, persistent ding, like the call of his radio in the truck, sending out a signal. Somewhere out there, this all made sense… Like how to go about drowning when there weren't any waves.

Another voice—deeper, masculine, urgent—intruded. "What's the problem?"

"Not sure," responded Adel. "He developed a cough, shortness of air, chest pain. BP bottomed out, and his heart rate went tachy. I think it might be pulmonary edema, he coughed up a little blood, and the O2 sats are falling. I got him on BiPAP, but he's still only semi-conscious. Think this might be a delayed reaction to chemical exposure. The patient mentioned ammonia."

"Well, finding him floating adrift outside the station, who knows where he's been and what he could've been exposed to. Since he dropped the ammonia clue, and the symptoms fit, I'd say your differential is sound, Ad. Start him on nitrolingual and enalapril. Give a slow morphine drip for the anxiety and air hunger. Let's see if we can get those sats up without a ventilator."

"Right away, Dr. Bishop."

There was a flurry of noise and movement, then suddenly Adel's voice came close to his ear. "Cooper, I'm giving you something to help you relax. It'll make breathing easier. Just go with the flow, okay?"

He wanted to voice a protest, to say that going with the flow when you were slowly suffocating was easier said than done. Case in point: no water, no waves, no Ranger, so how the hell was he supposed to flow with anything? But the chaos of thought was lost in the sudden warmth coursing through his body, making his lungs stop screaming for oxygen, allowing coiled and tensed, abused muscles to finally start to unfurl.

"Cooper?" echoed the surprised sounding doctor.

 _Yeah_ , Coop mused blearily, _that's_ _my name. Don't wear it out_.

To be continued…

Note: The doctor and the nurse I'm borrowing both appeared in the movie. I used the nurse with the red hair because she spoke, while the other one only laughed. Plus, it would remind Coop of Murph. The medical scene was the one thing I felt was lacking in the script, so I decided to change it and make it more painful and emotionally charged for Cooper. Since I couldn't read the ID badges, I decided to give them names of my own choosing, based on previous sci-fi shows I enjoyed. Kudos if you can guess where they're from. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

NEW HORIZON

By Kidders

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. LaMadone, see chapter three (not finished yet) for your request.

Disclaimer: Forgot to put it in chapter one. I do no own Interstellar, am only borrowing the characters and part of the storyline for the enjoyment of myself and other readers. No infringement intended.

Chapter Two: Lost

She watched him from her workstation-tucked into a corner of the room-keeping a close eye on the numbers streaming to her tablet: BP 110/70, HR 80, O2 sat 92%. VS's holding for now. But he wasn't yet resting comfortably. Cooper had remained edgy, dozing in fitful spurts, mumbling and arching his neck off the pillow, the BiPAP mask making his breaths sound harsh and shallower than they actually were. It was the dyspnea, always worse at night—or what passed for night on the station as they still kept it to a twenty-four hour cycle—the feeling of drowning so urgent and primal it often yanked patients from their medicinal escape and pulled them unwillingly back to consciousness. Usually dependent on the disease state, age, and level of fitness, factors not really a consideration here. For Cooper, it was the level of exposure, plus the massive emotional baggage he seemed to be shouldering. Survivor's guilt, and then some. She'd done a little digging—Cooper had outlived both his son and daughter, or soon would in Murphy's case. He had a grandson old enough to be his own father whom he'd never met, and several great-grandchildren, but they were all strangers to him. He was out of sync with his own timeline. And what of the others who'd gone on the mission with him? Later, Ad vowed, once he had recovered, she intended to discover the entire story on the Endurance and her crew, the Lazarus missions, and anything else relevant to her patient's self-reproachful state of mind.

As if in response to her musings, Cooper moaned and tossed his head, the mask muffling the strings of grief-hoarsened words, but it sounded to her like, "Make him stay, Murph. Don't let me leave, Murph. No, don't go!" Voice choking into inarticulate pleading, his vitals spiked in concert with the growing agitation. Adelaide was instantly on her feet, crossing the distance to the bed in a couple of strides. Cooper's eyes were open, flickering from side to side, their blueness dulled by pain and fatigue. Questing fingers intercepted hers, and Ad clasped them firmly, giving him the human contact he seemed to be craving.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, free hand grabbing the mask on his face and pulling it down. "Mann was lyin'."

Concerned, Ad quickly replaced the mask, giving his fingers a firm squeeze. "No, Cooper, it wasn't your fault. Nothing was your fault. Now look around—tell me where you are."

His eyes fixed on her, then blinked slowly. "Hos-hospital." She nodded, and he paused a beat before whispering, "On the…station. Orbit 'round Jupiter." Brow wrinkling, it took a few more breaths until he could get more words out. "Why's it…so hard…to keep air

movin'? Feels like I'm bein' pulled under…water."

"Well, in a way, you are." She felt for the med-pump trigger on the sheet, depressed the button to allow another minute dose of morphine to be injected into the IV line. Normally, it was a DIY for the patient, but she suspected Cooper kept forgetting it was there. "Your lungs have fluid in them, what we call pulmonary edema. It can be a result of breathing in too much noxious atmosphere, like ammonia."

"Ammonia?" His eyelids drooped, head melting into the pillow as the morphine did its job. "But I was okay…after I got O2."

Pushing the hand she held down to his chest, Ad tried to picture what he must have gone through, but fell woefully short. "Sometimes symptoms can appear several hours, even a day, after exposure. The timetable varies with each individual, but it can definitely be worsened by physical exertion. Does that make sense?"

The moment he took to consider her question lessened a few of the lingering frown lines denting his brow, yet his eyes seemed to darken, a naked hard emotion simmering in their depths. "Yeah…exertion… does kinda fit the bill." He was quiet for a time, and she'd thought he'd fallen asleep, but then he grunted, frantically blinking until he could focus again, fighting the drug and the release it would bring.

"Cooper, just let go, you need to rest," Ad tried to persuade him. "Your body needs time to heal."

"No!" he ground out stubbornly. "Don't wanna sleep. N-not dream."

Adelaide placed her palm over his forehead, fingers detecting the heat radiating there. A glance at the monitor on the other side of the bed confirmed her suspicions—37.8C—he was running a fever. With all the other problems he was dealing with, she hoped it would resolve without further treatment. "You need to sleep," she reiterated, pushing curls of sweat-clumped hair off his face. "I'll keep watch. If things get too bad, I'll wake you up. Deal?"

A whispery sigh of relief escaped through clenched teeth, and his eyes finally drifted closed. "Gonna…hold ya…to…to your word, Adel."

Since he was thankfully her only patient, Ad pulled a chair closer to the bed, settling in for what was likely to be a long night for both of them. Noting his breathing had eased, she listened as the wheeze from his healing lungs became only faintly audible. His face relaxed in sleep, and he finally achieved some measure of peace, a calmness his body desperately needed in order to recover. Something, Ad thought, Cooper probably hadn't had the luxury of—or felt—in quite some time. A solace she was determined to give him for the remainder of the night. By doing her job, and keeping her word.

Two days later, she came on shift just before 1900. Cooper was again her only patient, and from the day nurse she'd learned he was now on room air, his lungs were almost clear, and he was no longer febrile, but still weak. Rest, a bit of rehab, and good nutrition would all help him regain the strength he needed. When she entered his room, he was lying on his right side, turned toward the partly-opened window, beyond which she could hear the muted sounds of a baseball game being played. The light was fading into a simulated sunset, and she'd only taken a few steps closer to the bed when Cooper announced hoarsely, "Go away."

"Excuse me?" Ad parried, gauging his mood as somewhere between anger and morose depression.

He yanked his arm—the one carrying the intravenous catheter—farther across his chest, drawing the remaining tubing taut, but not pulling it out. The sudden movement flapped the back of his gown open, leaving her an unobstructed view of his bare butt. "Don't wanna talk anymore. Feel like wallowin'."

For a moment, Ad noticed the varied tan lines on his skin, most fading into paler complexion, but showing a hint of previous time spent in the sun back on Earth. Then the fact his shoulders were shaking focused her attention. "Cooper, while I admit you have a nice ass, flashing it at me in this manner is rather rude."

"Shit!" He immediately flopped over on his back, but was steadfast in refusing to make eye contact. His face was damp, but not from fever. His body temp was down to a normal 37C, so this was clearly something else.

Ad tried another tactic. "Murphy will be here in a little over a week. She's going to want to see you."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Cooper's throat convulsed in a hard swallow. "She's comin' here to die," he lamented, voice husky with barely suppressed tears. "Topic ain't open for discussion."

Approaching the bed, Adelaide placed both hands on the rail, and sighed. "Cooper, Murphy is coming to see you. And you need to process all the facts before she arrives."

His eyes flashed darkly, the shimmering rim of tears doing nothing to quell the emotions radiating from their depths. "Don't tell me what I need to do!" he snapped harshly. "You don't know how I feel, no one here does!"

"No," she agreed sadly, "I guess we don't." The night before, he'd told her what had happened to him, everything he could remember after the Endurance went through the wormhole. The struggle to survive on Miller's planet, fighting against the odds after Mann's betrayal, nearly dying on the ice. How he'd gotten Dr. Brand on course to Edmunds' planet, then piloted his dead ship toward the black hole. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around the tragic details. For him, it had to be twice as hard.

Rolling his head to stare at the ceiling, Cooper noticeably shuddered. "Damn it, Adel, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to take this out on you. It's just…lyin' around like this…all I have time to do is think. Dwell on what's happened."

"What happened wasn't your fault," she persisted, attempting to ease his guilt.

A small smile played across his lips, and he finally met her gaze. "I know that." He tapped his forehead. "Up here, I know, but in my heart, all I can dwell on is the fact my daughter, who I left when she was ten years old, is coming to visit, and she's old enough to be my grandmother. She stayed behind on Earth with the terrible burden I placed on her shoulders. The terrible lies—"

"The lies weren't yours, Cooper," Ad interrupted firmly. "Professor Brand—"

"-And Dr. Mann, I know. I guided you through the whole shit storm myself." He made a miserable hiccupping sound, and his eyes bored into her. "I flew my Ranger into a black hole, past the event horizon, then ejected while inside. And I got to live. It ain't fair, Adel. I promised her I'd come back…"

Tears welled in her own eyes, and Ad blinked furiously so he wouldn't see them. "And you kept your promise, Cooper. It's not fair, but what if…what if you hadn't gone?"

His lips parted slightly, expression gaining a sliver of hope. "I would've seen her grow up…have kids of her own. Got to witness her life, as a father should for his daughter."

"And watched them and millions of other families die a slow and agonizing death?" Ad shook her head, resolute in her determination. "Tell me, if you had stayed on Earth, would this station be here? Would any of us?"

A single tear tracked slowly down his cheek, and he uttered a disconsolate laugh. "Mankind was born on Earth, it was never meant to die here." He paused, long enough for a broken sigh. "Maybe NASA could've snagged them another pilot, someone else crazy enough to take the bait…"

Ad pressed her advantage, knowing she was right, and he needed to get past all the haunting self-recrimination. "Would someone else have had your connection with Murph? 'What can happen, will happen, right?' Murphy solved gravity because you were 'there' to help. You got pulled into that tesseract—" She nearly stumbled over the unfamiliar word, but pushed it past her teeth, going for the hard sell. "—because you were meant to. Everything happened as it was meant to, Cooper. Think about it. If you hadn't fallen into the black hole, none of this would be here." She waved her hand, encompassing the station in general. "None of us would be here period!"

He finally relented, rewarding her with a tiny quirk of a smile, this one reaching to lighten the burden in his red-rimmed eyes. "You're a know-it-all, Adel."

She allowed herself a small snicker, glad she'd gotten though to him. "So my husband tells me."

Interest formed in his face, along with a thin look of amusement. Swiping the back of his hand across his cheeks, he wondered, "What's he like? Is he here on the station?"

Adelaide felt her face redden, and she nodded. "He's, um…a bit like you, actually."

"Like me?" Cooper seemed surprised. "Surely not a pilot?"

"No," she corrected quickly. "An engineer—structural and mechanical. I hesitate to bring this up, but he'd really like to meet you."

"Meet me?" Surprise segued to blank incomprehension. "Why?"

"Because you're something of a hero."

While he keyed the button to raise the head of the bed, a new frown settled across the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm not."

"The entire station wants to meet you, Cooper."

It was his turn to blush, though everything about his posture radiated tension. "Um, I'm not sure…"

Ad hurried to offer reassurance, a validation to his privacy. "Medical didn't announce you, Cooper. But word somehow got out—exactly who you are, and that you'd been found alive." She finger quoted, "'Astronaut returns after being lost in another galaxy for over eighty years.' You are big news, Mister."

"You make me sound like some kind of freak," he accused, still clearly disconcerted.

Good grief, Ad thought, can't the guy take a compliment? "No, it's not like that at all. You coming back, the fact someone from the mission survived, it's given people a renewed sense of purpose. Hope of some day moving these stations out of our solar system to a new home." She faltered, suddenly realizing for Cooper, this was so not consolation under any circumstance. "Crap, why are you just sitting there letting me run my mouth off? You should just tell me to shut it. My husband and my brothers frequently employ the tactic."

He smiled, started to chuckle, then let out a full-on belly laugh, though it was tempered by a cringe and a wince. "Ow. God, I needed that. Haven't laughed since…since me and Murph went in search of the mystery coordinates, I guess." He fell silent, but at her worried look, amended quickly, "No, I'm okay, Adel. At least I will be 'til she gets here. Maybe even then."

"Would this be a good time to mention the NASA reps want to interview you?"

That effectively killed the tone of the conversation. "What if I don't wanna talk to them?" glowered Cooper.

She'd been prepared, but it still took her off guard. The man was hardly keen on the space agency. And given what he'd suffered, Ad could hardly blame him. "I know what you're thinking—you told me the whole story, so why can't I do it?" She shook her head. "Cooper, you have firsthand knowledge, I don't. They are going to want to know about their ship, plan B, Dr. Brand, those you lost, and everything in between. I can't give them what they need."

He sighed, seemingly resigned to the task, unpleasant though it might be. "You're right," he agreed quietly. "I owe it to Doyle and Rom to make sure history remembers them. And Miller and the others. Amelia…" His voice softened into a note she hadn't heard before, only for a moment, then his eyes blazed fury. "But I ain't gonna excuse the shit Mann pulled, Adel. In my book, he was a lunatic and a murderer. He killed Rom, tried to kill me. No way I'm gonna sugarcoat the truth. Dr. Mann was _not_ the best of us!" He started to cough, hugging his chest until the spasm ran its course.

After a glance at the monitors to satisfy her concern, Adelaide motioned for him to relax. "No one is asking for anything but the truth, Cooper. They'll understand, just like I did."

"They damn well better," he croaked, taking a sip of water from the nearby cup she'd unobtrusively filled while they'd been talking.

"They will," Ad said assuredly.

He cocked his head, studying her face as if memorizing the details for a later time. "I'm glad I got to know you, Adel. Even if it's just for a little while."

She nodded to indicate the sentiment was mutual, though was distracted by the last sentence. _A little while? What the heck is that supposed to mean?_ Wanting to ask, she instead held her tongue when she noticed his eyelids were heavy, growing heavier by the second. She plucked the cup from his hand and replaced it on the table, rearranged the blankets so they covered him to the waist, waiting until his body completely relaxed before retreating to her work station. He sure still tired easily, she mused, and was wound pretty tight, emotional reactions all over the map. But he was getting stronger. Perhaps by the time Murphy Cooper arrived, he'd be able to navigate on his own two feet. She hoped so. The man would need all the resilience he could muster for the upcoming family reunion.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

NEW HORIZON

By Kidders

Chapter Three: Reunion

It didn't smell like home. Inside, the old farmhouse looked exactly as it had when he'd left, minus a few layers of dust which always seemed to coat anything with a surface, people included. But the bigger difference, Cooper realized with a quietly indrawn breath, was the sound—or complete lack of it. He'd shut down the narration boxes situated in every room, annoyed by the constant drone, and now the silence was almost deafening. No bustle in the kitchen as Donald cooked breakfast and tried to get the kids fed and off to school, no bubbling from the coffee maker as it brewed a fresh pot to pour into his thermos for a day of work out in the fields, no insults being flung back and forth across the table between Tom and Murph over whatever topic they'd chosen to disagree over. Almost like the hushed vacuum of space, nothing breaking through the barrier now except the quickened pace of his breathing, the stillness smothering in its embrace. Coop tried to adjust to the newness of it all. On the outside, his house could have been built last year, instead of over a hundred—no, now it would be almost two hundred years ago if you accounted for time slippage. Brought to the station who knew how many decades earlier, separated from its original location by time and space, the history of old and new blended together in homage to those who'd given their lives to get this far.

Absently, Cooper toed the kitchen floor with his shoe, frowning at the lack of scuff marks. The wood had been buffed smooth and clean, taken back to a time before the blight, before he and his kids had lived here, before even he and his wife and her parents had come to call this place their own. And now, like the absent grime and dirt, Cooper felt as an intruder in his own home. A speck of dust mote, not welcome in this new world, unnoticed and unwanted and alone. His house had become a damned museum piece, a fate he suspected was just over the horizon for himself as well. The only positive spin was he had some clothes to his name, found tucked away in a closet in his old bedroom, either too small for Tom to use or simply overlooked by the new caretakers and brought along for the ride. A small consolation, but at least he wouldn't be meeting his daughter dressed in hand-me-downs or a hospital gown.

Suddenly drained, Cooper sank into one of the chairs at the table, weariness forcing him to sit and rest. It frustrated him to still be less than one hundred percent. For days he'd felt trapped in a countdown, waiting for Murphy to arrive, wanting more than anything to see her yet reluctant too, dreading to see how time had treated her all these years. How time would judge him—no, how _she_ would judge him. Tomorrow he would have the answer, regardless. Strangely, he wished TARS was around so he'd have someone to talk to, but the robot's power source had been depleted, prompting his tour guide to go off in search of a replacement.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Coop grimaced at the memory. The kid had meant well, but he'd been nearly vibrating with enthusiasm, professing about high school papers and suggestions made for the layout of this place, served with a side dish heavy in hero worship. Nothing felt farther from the truth. Seeing your own name on a monument honoring the sacrifices made to save the people of the Earth wasn't remotely cheerful, especially given the fact you were still alive and kicking, while everyone else on the list had died. Well, except for Brand. She had a shot, at least. With CASE's help, they might've coaxed the Endurance all the way to Edmunds' planet. Set up base camp. But then what? Stuck in another galaxy, she was as alone as he was here. No, he realized suddenly, she had Wolf. Once Amelia woke Edmunds from cryo-sleep, she'd have everything she wanted right at her fingertips. Together, they could start the colony, carry on with the mission. Succeed where he'd failed.

Exhausted, Cooper rested his chin over his folded arms and allowed his mind to wander. Not even sure what he was really feeling, wishing he could just jump up and roam the station, but knowing his legs weren't ready to carry him that kind of distance. He didn't begrudge Brand for the company she was keeping. Hell, no one should have to bear the burden of saving the human race all alone. But right now, in this moment, Cooper felt every bit of the mileage time had placed on him, all one-hundred-and-twenty-four years of it.

The head of the bed was raised as high as Murphy Cooper could tolerate, roughly one third of the thing's capability. High enough to make breathing close to a normal affair, though she was tethered to oxygen, a paltry complaint given what she was waiting for. The reunion of a father and a daughter, a hope she'd cultivated nearly her entire life, biding the decades as they passed, waiting for one sliver of time, one precious moment out of the infinite fourth dimension, grounded and preserved just for her. The time was now, her past and present colliding to bestow her with the single most important person lacking in her existence since she was ten years old. Two years in cryo-sleep had been nothing. She was here, on the station bearing her name, and her dad was walking in the door. She would've leaped to the floor if it had been possible. As it was, when the door actually opened, it was good she was reclining somewhat, because the shock just about knocked her socks off.

Murph stared, could not help it, could not tear her eyes from the sight of her father standing beside her hospital bed, looking almost exactly as he had when he'd left her all those years ago. Impossible, her mind argued, yet the irrefutable proof stood right in front of her. Her dad, wearing blue jeans and light denim shirt, expression somewhat dazed as their eyes met. A rush of joy and love filled her to the brim, overwhelming in a burst of such intensity Murph could only compare the moment to a select few instances in her life where her father was concerned: the discovery he had been her ghost all along, figuring out the message he'd left for her, hearing the news—the final affirmation—her dad was alive and had come back just like he'd promised. She smiled, a tiny gasp leaving her lips as she basked in the sight of him.

A closer study verified he did look much the same, as she'd first noticed, but a more thorough examination revealed subtle differences. He was paler than she'd ever seen him, only a hint of the tan he'd carried through much of her childhood-garnered from working outdoors day after day—still visible. And it wasn't a healthy pale, she judged, he was thinner and sad somehow, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. With a start, she knew that's precisely what it was, a weight she had put there. Blinking the swell of tears from her aging eyes, Murph raised a trembling hand toward him.

His gaze was wide and uncertain, but he took her hand and sank into a nearby chair, expression slowly crumbling as he shook his head. "Oh, Murph," he whispered, "I tried to get here sooner, I tried. I was your ghost, baby. All that time, it was me." He sniffed, eyes beginning to water. "Sendin' the message was the best I could do."

Murph squeezed his hand, her smile growing, before quickly fading as her gaze became tinged with regret. "I know, Dad. And I'm sorry."

"What?" He seemed stunned by her apology. "No! You got nothin' to be sorry about. I was the one who left."

Giving him a stern look, Murph shook her head. "But you didn't abandon me. You didn't know about the lies the professor told, you didn't know Plan A was a sham. You found out when I sent Brand that recording. I should never have said those words, accused you. But I was so angry and broken up inside…the professor had just admitted in his dying breath he'd lied—to me, to all of us. I was devastated, and I lashed out at you because I thought you'd broken your promise, even though deep down I knew it was wrong."

Taking her hand and pressing it against his cheek, her father seemed to be soaking up every minute they got to spend together. "Murph, if you hadn't sent the message, I wouldn't have tried to come home when I did. Would have done a lot of things different, most likely. As it was, I got here too late. Should've listened to ya, Murph. I should have stayed," he declared softly.

Hindsight was always 20/20, Murph knew, but it this case the old adage was being stretched to the nth degree. "The Earth was dying, Dad. You were right to go."

"And now you're the one dyin'. The price I had to pay was too damn high!" His blue eyes swam with tears, a few spilling over in a steady trickle down his cheekbones, tiny rivulets diverted by her swollen knuckles.

"No, you did the right thing," she insisted. "I know it was hard on both of us, but if you hadn't had the courage to leave me and Tom, to go and try to save the world, we wouldn't be here. Dad, because you sacrificed what you did—gave all you had to give—I got to marry and have kids of my own. No matter how badly it hurt to see you go, I wouldn't trade my kids for anything. Being able to save everyone, finding love, becoming a mother… Dad, you gave me the greatest gift I could've ever hoped to ask for."

"But I didn't get to see any of it, took too long to get back." Stubborn to a fault, just like always. An integral part of the Cooper DNA, she'd long ago concluded, like father, like daughter.

"So that's why I made this." She took the memory stick she'd been hiding in her other hand and gently placed it in his, guiding both his palms to the mattress. It was packed with memories, every special event she'd wanted to share—her wedding to Getty, the birth of her three children, the kids growing up—contained and stored for her father to retrieve when he was ready. A way to make up for all those stupid times she had refused to send replies while he was on the Endurance. "Watch it later, after you get to where you're going."

"Where I'm goin'? I don't understand."

He truly looked puzzled, and she sighed, steeling herself for the final stretch. To get her dad started on the journey to where she knew he needed to go. To give him a second chance at happiness, just as he'd given her. "I don't want you to stay and watch me die, Dad. No parent should have to do that. I saw what it did to Tom after he lost Jesse, the grief nearly destroyed him. He was never the same later on, even with Coop and Lois clawing out their existence in the farmhouse. Tom was just hollow…a husk of what he used to be. I don't want you to be forced to endure such a loss, not when you've given up so much already. Just go."

"Murph, where the hell am I supposed to go? Earth's gone. Gettin' those stations off the ground was the final death blow. Found out that much from the narrator boxes at the farm—your idea, by the way, turnin' our home into a show-and-tell for the curious masses?" She grinned at him, and his answering chuckle was music to her ears. Almost there, she thought. "But where am I gonna go, huh? NASA doesn't want me anymore, not that I blame 'em. After I reached critical mass on the whole Lazarus and Endurance missions, I got so upset, it tripped all sorts of bells and whistles on the medical equipment in my hospital room. At which point my nurse sent the whole lot of 'em packin', banned them from ever visitin' again." He sighed, bowing his head. "Shut a door never to be reopened as far as ever flyin' again goes."

She reached, just able to brush the top of his hair with her fingers. "Maybe not."

"What?" He lifted his head and looked at her, expression so wistful and yearning, she nearly laughed. "How?"

Smothering a cough, Murph steered the conversation to a related topic, not quite ready to see him leave. "I heard about your AI needing a new power source."

The pain in his eyes was slowly lessening, and it did her good to see him smile. A real smile, like she used to see when she was a kid. "Oh, ya did, did ya?"

"I made arrangements for a full upgrade—new power couplings, faster data processors, more memory, increased complexities regarding human interaction. I think you'll be pleased with outcome."

His eyebrows rose, the tear tracks having evaporated from the planes of his face. "You're not tellin' me you turned my robot into a crybaby, are ya?"

"Nope. Much better—Tars is now equipped to ride shotgun in the latest Ranger model based on the station."

It was obvious her dad didn't quite grasp where she was guiding him, but his eyes lit up at the mention of the ship. "Yeah, saw 'em from the observation deck. They're really sleek…powerful looking." His fingers twitched, and she knew he was thinking about climbing back into the cockpit.

Time to drop another hint, send it his way. "I heard some other news which might interest you." His distracted "Uh huh" made her roll her eyes. Her father could be so single-minded about some things. "The station received a ping from the other galaxy. Brand made it, Dad. She's out there waiting, all alone."

"Well, that's great," he agreed enthusiastically, thoughts obviously still stuck in flying mode. It only took about thirty seconds for the reality of what she'd just said to sink in. "Wait, what do ya mean, all alone?"

"Wolf Edmunds wasn't so fortunate. He died in his cryo-bed, buried under a rockslide. So Brand's out there, Dad. Setting up camp on another world by herself. By the time they get these stations to the point of going through the wormhole, well…it could be a spell."

She watched as a myriad of emotions flitted over his face, satisfied to see those deep blue eyes widen as an idea began to take root, the seed firmly planted, the destination she'd been leading him to since their reunion started finally beginning to register. Now she could sit back and watch it grow.

"You mean…" His eyes darted to the ceiling, seemingly fixed on a distant point in space, only to return to her narrowed in speculation. "You want me to go out there?" he drawled, tucking her gift in his shirt pocket as he leaned back in the chair. "Ain't gonna be like hoppin' a ride into town, Murph. You realize that, right?"

She giggled, the act making an odd snorting noise in the back of her throat. Probably brought on by the cannula pronged up her nose, not at all dignified for a person of her advanced age. Not that she cared, nor did her father. He hadn't even blinked, his gaze a growing mix of the same adventure-craving intensity and excitement he'd worn after figuring out the meaning of the coordinates they'd found written in the dust in her childhood bedroom. Before leaving on the trip to the mysterious bunker—NASA's secret location—where they'd met the professor and his daughter, and their lives had been changed forever. It had been a journey of discovery, of feeling, of purpose. One she'd initially loathed because it took her father away from her, but now was so grateful it had. This time, in a sense, she would the one doing the departing. Not before seeing the rest of her family again, and definitely not before sending her father on to the place he and Amelia Brand would eventually call home. It wasn't the end of the road, but the start of one.

Her dad was waiting, eagerly scooted forward on the edge of the chair, embracing her words, and when she raised her shaking fingers to trace the outline of a rectangle, he grinned. "You brought the bolt cutters, didn't you?" she whispered with a gleam in her eyes.

To be continued…

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Have health issues which flared up, bad enough I could barely make it to work, much less have leftover energy for writing. Hope it was worth the wait. Thanks to all who reviewed, I appreciate it. And I've decided to send Cooper to Edmunds. I primarily write h/c, so that'll be the focus, bur who knows, anything's possible.


	4. Chapter 4

NEW HORIZON

By Kidders

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They're much appreciated. Also, I just found out the title of my story is being currently used for NASA's probe that's passing Pluto right now. Didn't realize it, darn it. Of course if I followed the news more…g. Definitely hurt/comfort ahead, going to pick on Coop again.

Chapter Four: Arrival

They always said any landing you could walk away from was a good one. Of course, the people who came up with the saying probably hadn't been considering gravitational anomalies that could trip your fly-by-wire and make you crash, or waves the size of old city skyscrapers coming in and flooding your engines while trying to squash you flatter than a corn pancake, not to mention frozen clouds and black holes and time slippage. But on this occasion, Cooper thought, as he was flaring for a nice, normal touchdown on the surface of Edmund's planet, the point was a valid one. Because about a meter above TD, his vision blurred, causing him to yank back hard on the stick so that instead of a smooth gear transition there was one bone-jarring thud as the wheels hit the hardened red clay of his chosen landing spot. Had there been more altitude Tars could easily have adjusted the angle of attack, but Coop was still in control—just with a slimmer margin than usual. As it was, he was a bit rattled, mainly because the trip through the wormhole and everything in between had been completely uneventful. Even cryo-sleep—which had always left a very unpleasant metallic taste in his mouth along with a twelve hour hangover—was much improved, occurring in the pilot's seat rather than a coffin-shaped box that retracted into the floor. But hard landings, though admittedly the only real thing damaged was his pride, completely unnerved him.

And his nerves weren't the only thing in his body being aggravated. His stomach wasn't cooperating either. So much so, in another instant Cooper was hitting the canopy release and fumbling with the restraint system, scrambling out of the cockpit and down over the wing, hitting on all fours before frantically yanking his helmet off. Just in time, because then he started retching, vomiting up bile mixed with yellow froth, the sickness making him gasp and choke as his lungs tried to fill while his stomach upended itself. God, he'd take hypersleep and its monster headaches any day of the week instead of this misery. When the spasms finally passed, Cooper realized Tars had exited the Ranger behind him, and probably had been talking the whole time, but he'd been so zoned on nausea, the words hadn't really registered. Now he clearly heard the robot say, "Well, any landing you can walk away from is a good one, Cooper."

Slick really needed to get some new material. "Yeah," Coop groaned, dragging a glove over his mouth and swallowing hard. "Heard that one before, Optimist Prime. And I ain't exactly walkin', am I?" He didn't understand what had happened. This was the third new planet he'd been to, and never upon landing had he tossed his cookies. Inner ear had always been rock solid. So whatever it was, he was in uncharted territory. Climbing slowly to his feet, he removed his gloves and reached back into the ship for the travel bag he'd brought along, uncapping a bottle of water and sucking down several greedy swallows before spitting out a mouthful and licking dry lips, relieved to feel almost human again. Thirst and yuck factor diminished, he turned his head as Tars announced, "Got company, Coop."

And there it was. There _she_ was, the reason he'd left Cooper Station and traveled here, because she was the only other person in two galaxies who understood where he'd been and what he'd been through, because she'd been through it, too. Dr. Amelia Brand was wearing blue scrubs, dark hair slightly longer than the last time he'd seen her, tucked behind her ears, each step bringing her a shade closer to the Ranger's landing spot. Stopping about ten feet away, she stared wordlessly, brown eyes wide in a too-pale face, head shaking in denial as she drew her arms in to hug her body, seeming to want to distance herself from what he could see she knew was real. And suddenly, Coop had no idea what to say, though anything would beat the uneasy silence settling between them.

"Um, hey Brand, it's been awhile." He winced, realizing how lame he sounded. "Heard you were out here solo, thought I'd swing by for a visit, keep ya company. Hope you don't mind." He removed his gloves, letting them drop beside his boots, and waited. Amelia was being so quiet, he couldn't ever hear her breathing. And Tars—normally a chatterbox without an off switch—had become a statue behind him. Beginning to feel off balance, and unexpectedly at a loss for words, Coop swung his hand to indicate the ship and offered her a smile. "Even brought my own ride."

Cheeks flushing bright red, Brand whispered his name, and that was all the warning he got before she launched herself at him, shouting in a broken voice, "You died, you bastard! You fell into Gargantua…" Her fists pounded his chest, and she began to sob. "I watched you fall, and you fell forever, over and over like some flimsy child's toy, and there's no way you could've survived, Cooper! No possibility at all!"

"Amelia," he murmured, closing his hands around her fists to halt their momentum. "It's okay. Calm down."

"Don't patronize me, you asshole!" Breaking free, she shoved him, both palms hitting center mass, knocking him back so he rebounded off the leading edge of the wing behind him, winding up facedown on the ground, eating dirt. The situation was oddly familiar, he'd only been here five minutes and was already down for the count for a second time. Brand had kicked his butt, and she was still pretty pissed from the way her voice continued to rise. "You died—just like Rom and Doyle—and I had to watch." He managed to roll over and sit up, and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. "You died, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening." Dropping to her knees, she shuffled forward until close enough to lay both hands on the sides of his face. "I had to let you go," she said in a softer tone, gaze sadly pensive. "I couldn't save you, Cooper."

Capturing her hands in his, he shook his head. "But you did save me, Amelia. When it mattered the most, after Mann…out there on the ice, you saved my life. And through me, the people left on Earth got their chance, too."

Her eyes lit up. "The stations…they got them off the ground? Into orbit?"

"Yeah, they did. I got to the one orbiting Saturn just in time to see Murph…well, before the end, anyway. She's who told me you made it. That you were out here alone." Releasing her for a moment, he climbed to his feet, pausing as he gave her a hand up. "I'm sorry about Edmunds. I know he meant a great deal to you."

Tear steaks beginning to dry, she managed a quivering smile. "Yes, he did. But that's in the past, and this is the future, and I'm glad you came." She gestured to the camp just to their north. "As you can see, I've been busy the last month. Hab One is completely set up, and my lab is just about finished. There are a few more things to bring down from Endurance…the last habitat module, extra supplies…" She became more animated as she told him what she'd accomplished while alone, and he was content to just listen, peeling off the sleeves of his suit and tying them around his waist, the white t-shirt he wore underneath more comfortable in the warmer air of what he supposed you could call afternoon. He'd have to remember to ask Brand what a solar day amounted to here. "…Case has been monitoring Endurance's orbital trajectory, but we have a few more weeks before we have to worry about the rate of decay becoming problematic."

"Good. With two of us now, we can probably get everything done in one trip." Cooper trailed behind as Amelia led the way to the campsite, Tars clunking along on his six. "And where were you, Hop-A-Long?" he asked the robot, twisting his head to stare at the monitor, what he liked to think was equal to being eye-to-eye. "You're supposed to be my back-up, buddy."

"I still have a discretion setting, Cooper," rumbled his companion, "and I know when to use it."

He heard Brand emit a snorting sound that was suspiciously like a laugh, and he returned his eyes to the admirable view in front of him. "Likely story. Make more of an effort next time, Slick."

"Roger that."

Brand stopped at the door to the habitat module, turning suddenly and pressing one palm to his chest. "Cooper, I am really glad you're here. It's been lonely, and guilt trips aside, it's nice to know I don't have the future of the human race resting squarely on my shoulders."

He regarded her solemnly for a moment, then—unable to resist-asked in a half-teasing tone, "Really glad to see me again, or really glad you landed that sucker punch and knocked me on my ass?"

Raising both hands in front of her, Brand quickly shook her head. "No, no, that's not what I meant," she began to argue, but he wasn't having it.

"Yes, it is, and you know it," he retorted, daring her to deny it.

Finally giving in, Amelia laughed. "Okay, you're right. I did enjoy seeing that, Coop." Her smile faded, and she looked serious again, cheeks still slightly flushed, eyes dark and unreadable. "How…how did you manage to escape Gargantua?"

Cooper didn't really think hard about what to say, just blurted out the truth. "Tars and I each got sucked sideways into a tesseract after we bailed out of our disintegrating ships. Kind of a damned if ya do, damned if ya don't type of scenario." He'd started out riding sarcasm, but it was his turn to sober as he recalled just how freaked out he'd been at the time it happened, how close he'd come to really dying. It had hurt like a bitch, too. The gravity getting stronger and stronger until he literally felt like his atoms were being crushed into dust. He reached up to rub his chest where Brand's hand had rested a minute ago, feeling sweat begin to pop out across his forehead and upper lip.

"A tesseract? They placed it there, and it took you back to Earth?"

Brand was quick to make the leap and connect the dots, smart as a whip and twice as fast. He'd known from the moment he met her that she was way, way above his pay grade. Remembered how they'd briefly talked about Murph.. _Bright kid. Must have a very smart mother._ He nodded, smiling at the memory. "It did. I took the data Tars collected while we were inside Gargantua and coded it into Morse, so Murph could find it when she came back to the house to get the watch I gave her right before I left. Of course, for her, it was about thirty years later." Starting to feel really warm, he swiped his other hand over his brow, clearing away some of the sweat before it ran into his eyes. He blinked hard, and seeing Amelia's alarmed expression, he quickly explained, "No, she and I made our peace. I'm okay with it."

Looking unconvinced, Brand studied him in the intense way she seemed to look at everything, and asked, "Cooper, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit warm out here is all. Need to get the rest of the way out of this suit." Feeling his fingers curl into a fist around his shirt, he started to wonder if that's all it was. The surrounding campsite was taking on a surreal quality, like it didn't belong in his field of vision, and Amelia's features were beginning to blur, just as the landing site had when he first got here.

"Cooper?" Brand's voice sounded a little on the panicked side, not her usual style at all. "You're breathing awfully fast. And it's not that hot out."

He finally managed to raise his head, and when he met her worried gaze, he realized he'd lost the picture, had no clue what she'd been saying or what was going on, only that he was losing altitude, and totally behind the curve. "Something's not right…gettin' hard to…to breathe…just like in the…the hospital." Shit, the hunger for air was back, and every time he inhaled it got a little worse, the familiar band tightening over his ribs, notching tighter until he had to gasp to draw in oxygen, and then it was all pain, a knife slicing into his lungs, and as he clawed for something to latch onto, he felt his knees give out. Hard, metal casing kept him upright, and Cooper slammed his head back into what had to be Tars' monitor, but when the robot's extendable arm grazed his left side, he cried out in agony, and a begging litany was torn from his throat, "No…n-no, worse…it's worse…chest hurts…oh, God, Br-brand, I can't…can't breathe!"

Amelia had been watching in horrified silence, but when Cooper's head sagged back against Tars, she got a good look at his neck and throat, and saw his trachea had started to pull to the right. Tracheal deviation, a sign of…shit! She grabbed the front of his t-shirt and practically shouted, "Cooper, your left lung is collapsing. I have to get you into the lab now!"

Her lab—where all the medical supplies were stored—was only about thirty feet to the south. Pulling his other arm over her shoulder, she turned them, letting Tars take most of the weight, and told the robot, "Inside my lab. Quick!" Maneuvering through the door, she felt Cooper's head begin to loll, and yelled, "Don't you go out on me, you read me, Coop? Don't you dare give up on me! Keep moving, just a few steps farther, okay?" He was trying to follow her lead, but the gasping, struggling wheezing noises he was making sounded too much like the transmission that had come though her helmet on Mann's world when the pilot had nearly asphyxiated, and his life could be measured in mere minutes… Shit, she thought, holy fucking shit, Cooper was going to suffocate if she didn't get that lung inflated again. Time…time was against them…like always.

Letting Tars hold him up, she swept an arm across the cryo-bed she'd been using as a work table, sending papers, empty cups, and a few water cartons scattering to the floor as she grabbed the blanket and pillow nearby and spread them lengthwise over the flat surface. Yanking the flight suit down past his knees, she barely registered the boxers he wore, ordering, "Tars, get him on the table and hold him there. I'm going to put a needle into the anterior chest wall until I can get a chest tube placed."

Rushing to grab a box of supplies she'd just finished organizing the day before, Brand snapped on a pair of sterile gloves, tore open a couple of Betadine swabs, and instructed Case, who had followed her from the rear of the lab, "Shirt off, please." As soon as the robot has ripped away the fabric and exposed Cooper's chest, she prepped the area where the needle needed to be placed, feeling him jerk a little at her touch. She didn't dare make eye contact, not until she'd got him breathing again. "Okay, Cooper, you're going to feel a stick, don't move…second intercostal space…along the midclavicular line…" With a flick of the wrist, she pressed the 16g needle through the skin and into the pleural cavity, able to hear the hissing sound of air escaping as Cooper abruptly went silent. Sighing in relief, she made sure the needle was anchored before finally glancing at his face.

He was pale and sweaty, and as his eyes rolled to meet hers, he let out a pain-filled gasp, whispering, "Shit, what the hell was that?!"

"Your lung collapsed—chest cavity works on a negative pressure system. When air leaks out of the damaged lung and the diaphragm—"

He weakly flapped his right hand, interrupting, "Got that…part. Why?"

"You said you were in the hospital on the station?"

A faint nod gave answer. "Pulmonary edema. From the ammonia. Kept me about a week, got me back on my feet. Was feelin' good…" He paused for a few, fast breaths, and shivered. "Can I have…upgrade…on the room an' board? Mattress is hard as a rock, and I'm…freezin'"

She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile, and said, "Not just yet, I'm afraid. That trick we just did, the needle thoracotomy? It's the easy part in this game plan. The hard part lies in what we do next."

"Ya call this…" Reaching up, one index finger indicated the needle and its flutter valve. "…easy?"

Amelia winced as his expression continued to wilt; at least his lips had lost their bluish tinge, though his face still had the ashen hue of someone who'd nearly stopped breathing. "Yes, comparatively speaking. But I also have to insert a chest tube to allow your lung to heal, start IV antibiotics—infection is the most plausible explanation for the tension pnuemothorax—and get some lab work done. We've got out work cut out for us." She spared a glance at Case. "Unlock the boots and finish getting the suit off. It'll be easier for the both of us that way."

As the robot complied with her request, Amelia toed a small canister closer to the makeshift bed, starting the oxygen flow and hooking it up to the nasal cannula she gently fitted into his nose. He blinked, taking a few breaths, and commented, "You really…did train a lot…for this mission. Beyond your…specialty…I mean."

She wondered why he insisted on talking in the span of resolving hypoxia, was it to make her feel more comfortable? Granted, she did feel a miniscule thread of regret at shoving him—the fall he'd taken had probably hastened the forming of the pnuemo, and if she was really honest with herself, she was a tad nervous. Putting in a chest tube and performing critical care was something she hadn't done in quite some time. In answer to his question, she said, "Quick to criticize, Coop, but you wear a number of hats yourself." She raised her eyebrows, peeling off one set of gloves to allow her to don a sterile pair. "Yes, I trained as the mission medic, as well as nursing and some more intensive training physicians go through. My father thought with my background in biology, I was the logical choice."

She carefully opened the chest tube kit and began scrubbing the left side of his chest with a Betadine prep sponge, circumventing the needle and its temporary lifeline. He hissed, and yelped, "Cold!" to which she replied, "I know, I'll make it fast." Draping the site, she paused, gripping the scalpel.

"Actually, takin' our time might be…the better approach." Cooper, recognizing her hesitation, closed his eyes. "Now's not the place for caution, Amelia. Just get on with it. If I black out…be all the better for you."

Begging to differ on this point, she countered, "If being centrifuged at sixty-eight RPM's didn't make you lose consciousness, I'm not sure what would. Okay, here we go...I'm making an incision through the skin, dissecting the subcutaneous tissue over the fifth superior rib edge…" Cooper made a distressed sound, but didn't move. Positioning the Kelly clamp, Amelia punctured the pleura with the tip, advancing the distal end of the tube well past any resistance, and firmly pushed it into the thoracic cavity.

Coop's respirations sped up, a telling fact of his wakeful status. "Almost done," she reassured him, notching the tube inward a few more centimeters, attaching it to the skin with a suture, finally closing the open incision with a few additional stitches. There was a small amount of blood which leeched out and smeared over her gloves, but nothing excessive. Bending to connect the other end to a square, plastic drainage unit, she took off her gloves and placed a stethoscope on his chest, listening to his breath sounds, glad they sounded normal and equal on both sides. Since the portable x-ray machine that had been part of the original cargo for the colony wasn't unpacked yet, she turned to the robot standing at the head of the bed for confirmation. "Placement look good, Tars?"

"Affirmative, Dr. Brand. You have a very nice touch."

She let out a sigh of relief, amused when Cooper groaned in obvious disagreement. "Speak for yourself, Slick." His eyes squinted open, a pool of reflective blue. "We done here?"

Feeling she was being made the villain in all this, Amelia reluctantly shook her head. "Sorry, Coop. I still need to put in the IV, draw labs, and start you on antibiotics."

He gave her a pained look. "More needles?"

Technically, a scalpel wasn't a needle, but deferring to the general description of sharp, pointy objects, she simply nodded.

"Jesus, Brand," he muttered, breaths coming much easier now, "I already feel like…gotta target painted on my ass."

"Be patient. At the end, you'll get a morphine chaser."

"Can't wait." Genuine longing filled his voice, speaking to how much he must be hurting.

Since Cooper wouldn't be moving the left arm much, Amelia chose to put the IV there, taping the catheter to the back of his hand. "So you tolerated the medication okay? No adverse side effects to speak of?"

"Only side effect was so much drowsiness I didn't really care I was slowly drownin'."

Imminent respiratory failure, stated with such matter-of-factness, she wasn't quite sure how to respond. Tars took the burden by offering, "I have Cooper's complete medical file from his inpatient stay at Cooper's Station downloaded, if you'd like to take a look, Dr. Brand."

"Medical files?" Cooper exclaimed, "How the hell did ya come by those…?" Eyes widening in realization, he slowly exhaled, and said in a much quieter tone, "Murph."

"Roger that, Coop. She thought it would be a wise precaution given your proclivity for landing yourself in risky situations."

"Hey, none of those were exactly my fault—" Cooper had to stop talking to catch his breath, and after adjusting the flow rate on the D5W, Amelia felt impelled to add, "Boys, you can debate this later, after someone—who just had his lung collapse—agrees to settle down and rest." She pointedly glared at the pilot, and when his eyes met hers, the corners of his mouth quirked up, but he didn't say anything further. Despite the verbal sparring with Tars, she knew he had to be exhausted, and hurried to finish adding the vancomycin to his array of meds. Scrounging up another blanket—a silver NASA issue designed to hold in body heat—she tucked it around his waist and retrieved an ampoule from the emergency first aid kit, injecting the contents into his IV port. "Okay, Coop, morphine's on board," Amelia told him. "You should begin to feel much better in a few minutes."

"Better," he murmured, a grateful smile curving his mouth before his eyes slid closed. "There already. Worth the trip…an' you have…amazin'…touch."

Amelia watched him for a moment, the muscles in her neck and back growing slack as the tension slowly left her. "Jesus, Cooper," she whispered, reaching one hand to smooth the hair off his forehead. "Please don't die on me."

To be continued…

A/N: Originally was going to put the pnuemo in chapter one, but decided to have it happen after Coop got to Edmunds. Hope you all liked it! Also, I am not a doctor. I do work in health care, what you call a clinical laboratory technologist (four year degree heavy in biology and chemistry, and you have to pass national boards). If you ever saw an episode of House, M.D. where the docs were all in the lab by themselves running tests, that's what I do. We're open 24/7, and though now I work days, I have worked night and evenings too. Keep pretty busy, being it's a level one trauma center. Sorry, long-winded explanation, but most people don't understand if I just say the job title. And all my friends are nurses, so medical is kind of what I know, and that's what I usually write


	5. Chapter 5

NEW HORIZON

By Kidders

A/N: Okay, not sure anyone is actually reading this anymore. But I need to finish it for my own satisfaction. Have it mostly mapped out in my head where the story is going. Oh, and for my fellow authors of Interstellar, if you don't see my name/handle among your reviews, there's a reason for that. While I'm writing a story, I can't read other people's work.

Chapter Five: Discovery

Amelia tried to make Cooper as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances. She'd unpacked the one gurney originally stowed for the journey and set it up parallel to the cryo-bed, tasking Case and Tars with the job of transferring Coop from one to the other, while she handled the IV bags and the drainage unit. The morphine ensured the transition occurred free of complications—Cooper barely opened his eyes, and uttered a small sigh before closing them again, lips forming a single word before he eased back into sedation: "Thanks."

Throat tightening around a swallow, Amelia took a deep breath to release some of the tension, and exhaling slowly, she whispered, "Rest well, Cooper." Moving around the head of the bed, she motioned Tars to accompany her a few feet away, beyond the range of human hearing. Even so, she kept her voice low. "Tars, keep close tabs on his vitals. Is the skin sensor patch working as advertised?"

"Affirmative, Dr. Brand. All the readings are streaming in as expected: heart rate and rhythm, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, respirations, and temperature. I can display them on screen if you wish." The data suddenly appeared on the lower section of the robot's right monitor, each parameter displaying in a different color, the contrast making it quite easy to follow.

"Nice," Amelia commented, impressed with the upgrade features. "Any other gifts under the tree which might come in useful?"

"It's pertinent you should ask, Dr. Brand." Tars unhinged a section of arm plating, offering her a thin, tubular object about twenty centimeters long, similar to a pipette, but tapered to one end, locked beneath crystalline casing. "Place this in an artery or vein and you will be able to access multiple lab results in real time."

Amelia's admiration notched up a few more degrees, both for the robot and the person she knew was responsible for the access to the new technology—Murphy Cooper. "Portable Lab, X-Ray, EKG display, probably other things I haven't thought of yet. Tars, you are full of surprises."

"I agree, but Cooper failed to appreciate the practical applications of my enhancements. He said, and I quote, 'Come near me with that thing, and I'll stick it where the sun don't shine.'"

She let out a short laugh. "Sounds like something Coop would say."

"In addition, I am programmed to provide ventilator support, cardiac bypass, act as a defibrillator, and—"

Putting up a hand to indicate silence, Amelia inhaled sharply as she glanced back at the occupied gurney, tendrils of worry beginning to roll through her belly. She no longer felt like laughing. "Let's hope we won't need to put those features to the test, Tars."

"Roger that."

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Amelia braced herself, and asked, "What are his chances for a full recovery, Tars? And one-hundred-percent honesty, please. I need to be prepared for every outcome."

The robot didn't immediately answer her question, instead pausing as if considering her worthiness to be asking for an all-in honesty setting given the fact she was an emotional being. Finally, he said, "His chances are good, Dr. Brand. The lung was reinflated quickly, precluding any damage from oxygen deprivation. According to my data, the infection is currently localized in the left lung, and is being treated with intravenous antibiotics. Medically speaking, you did an excellent job in stabilizing Cooper's condition. You did what was necessary."

She nodded, replying softly, "I know. It's just…Cooper came here so I wouldn't have to work the mission alone. If he doesn't respond to treatment for some reason, I might have to decide whether to send him back to the station—somewhere I know he doesn't really want to be—in order to save his life." Tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes, and Amelia turned away, running her palms up and down her forearms. "I might have to let him go again, and I'm not sure I can do it this time. I already lost Wolf—lost him a long time ago, actually—and Rom and Doyle. I'm not sure I could bear losing Cooper as well."

"Maybe you won't have to. Cooper's strong—he'll pull through this."

She gathered the frayed edges of her composure back into place, and blinked hard. "Yes, yes he will." Nearly tripping on a duffel bag near her feet, she wondered, "What's this?"

"Case retrieved it when he went to secure the Ranger. It's what Coop brought with him when we left Cooper Station," the robot told her.

"Um…okay…I'll just put it aside for now—"

"You should look inside," Tars interrupted, something he had never done before. "If you care for him, Dr. Brand, you need to look inside."

Amelia felt her cheeks flush, and told the robot in a raised voice, "Of course I care about him, Tars. I may have initially thought he was a cocky, self-centered, arrogant ass when we first met, but Cooper's more than proved himself in my eyes. He is an exceptional pilot, and we wouldn't be here without his skills. And he's the only other human on this planet, so yes, I do care. Why would you even ask?"

"I didn't ask if you cared _about_ him, I asked if you cared _for_ him. There's a difference, and only you can determine what the answer will be." Ultimatum delivered, Tars turned and resumed his position near the head of the gurney.

Frowning, Amelia glanced at Tars for a lingering moment, finally deciding to postpone further conversation until she'd had time to formulate some kind of response, and knelt beside the bag. It was of the oblong and muted-green variety with a long, gold-colored zipper. Worn, but still in good condition. Putting her hand on the zipper, she hesitated, one part of her mind continuing to argue she was invading Cooper's privacy, while the other primed a surge of curiosity as to the contents and what could motivate Tars to foment such a request. Giving in to impulse, she opened the bag, carefully pulling apart each side, and there among the neatly packed clothes and assorted toiletries was a book. Larger than a book you would read, bound on one edge with a coiled wire, she could feel the weight of it as she pulled it free, somehow knowing this was what she needed to see.

Stiff cardboard framed a good inch of stock paper, and Amelia abruptly realized what it was—a sketch book. The pages had to be old, but the edges still felt fresh and crisp. Running an index finger down the cover, she opened to the first page, and found herself looking at a drawing of three people: one a child, another a fortyish woman with long hair fastened at her neck, and off to one side an elderly woman. The images were drawn in pencil, but with exquisite detail, so they resembled old photographs. At the bottom of the page, three words were blocked in a title: Love You Forever. With a rush of understanding, she recognized all three women were the same person, portrayed at different stages of a lifetime. She should have seen it at once—the child and younger woman clearly were both Murph—but she'd been caught up in admiration of the quality of the work. The younger version was wearing the same clothes as the day they'd met, sitting on a bed with a sad look in her eyes. Middle-aged Murph was sitting at a desk, a smile curving the corners of her lips, sections of bookcase serving as a backdrop, and Amelia could even make out some of the cover pages. The older woman, as she must have looked when Coop caught up to her on the station, was in a hospital bed, a watch on her left wrist, a wedding band on the third finger, hand raised in supplication. Though her eyes and face bore the wrinkles of advanced age, the woman's expression taken as a whole radiated absolute joy, an overwhelming happiness because her father had kept his promise to her. The texture seemed a bit different, done with a heavier hand perhaps? Coop must've added this image later, after he'd drawn the first two.

The likenesses made Amelia acutely aware of her rush to judgment of the man. She'd certainly underestimated him, because never for one second would she have guessed he could sketch, not at this level of expertise. Eager to see what else he'd done, she turned the page, and felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she looked at a replica of her father's office on the station, perfectly recreated. Her dad sat behind his desk, looking very scholarly and younger than she'd seen him in years. There was a young girl standing next to him, a smile on her face as she leaned forward, elbows propped on the wooden surface, palms cupping her chin… Added shock jolted through her, and Amelia gasped. The child wasn't Murph, as she'd first assumed, knowing her father had taken Coop's daughter under his tutelage; this was herself, at eleven years old, captured in the same pose as the photograph her father had kept on his desk. Cooper must've seen it and drawn it from memory. At the bottom, the title jumped into focus: Hope. Legs going weak, Amelia sank to the floor, carefully cradling the book. God, even after all the lies and deception her father had crafted, Cooper had still drawn this.

Flipping through a few more pages, there were other images: Rom, perched on the edge of a bunk aboard the Endurance, head tilted, eyes rapt with concentration. Explorer. And Doyle, a little smirk on his lips, eyes crinkled, expression clearly visible through his helmet. Humor Setting. She laughed, raising a trembling hand to skim the side of the paper before quickly leaping to the next page. Her own face stared back at her, the way it looked now, and she was wearing a suit but no helmet. Her features were pinched in sorrow and guilt, eyes a watery storm, and seeing the title 'Counting Every Minute' was redundant. She'd known at first glance it was the Ranger's interior, immediately after they'd lost Doyle on Miller's planet.

Not wanting to dwell on the enormity of her mistakes, she continued on. The following page was once again centered on her, fully suited up, face a mask of concern, eyes narrowed in what she gleaned was total focus. She was kneeling, leaning forward with something in her hand…a portable respirator containing emergency oxygen. Oh, this was when she'd aided Cooper out on the ice after Dr. Mann had tried…had tried to what? Murder him? She still had trouble thinking her father's protégé capable of killing in cold blood. Yet the facts were undeniable. Of course, she hadn't been the one to see through the deception. But Cooper had. Hence the title: Survival.

She sighed. This was becoming harder, taking a toll. Amelia felt on the verge of tearing up, and the knowledge Cooper had created these drawings while holed up on the station waiting for his daughter to essentially come home to die, it was ripping apart the tightly woven façade she'd built for herself so as to be in control at all times. What she wanted was to stop, but the pages kept calling to her, and she kept coming back, because she owed a debt to Cooper and his family. She was still alive, and they weren't. It wasn't fair, but it was what time had given them. So she turned the page, and held her breath as she looked. An immediate frown followed, because the images made no sense. Slowly studying the composition, her mind struggled to put the pieces together. There was what appeared to be a Ranger caught in an uncontrolled downward spiral, starting to break apart, possibly an ejection seat thrusting the suited pilot free of the impending wreckage…all of this was surrounded by some sort of dust and fog, light and shadow blending into chaos… Amelia's eyes fell automatically to the bottom to discover the title, and it was scrawled in a heavier blocked script than the others: Rage Against The Dying Of The Light.

Oh, hell, this was Gargantua. From Cooper's perspective, as he and his ship plummeted through the event horizon. He wouldn't have recognized precisely when it happened from the cockpit, but in depicting the journey, everything seemed in place. The universe above, smaller in scale and surrounded by the accretion disk; below, a multi-faceted cube she couldn't quite decipher. The tesseract perhaps? The emotions were there too, in every line and every curve, light diminishing in the proximity of darkness, fear building to gut-wrenching terror in the grasp of an imminently painful death, the tidal forces of an outflying singularity looming closer and closer, until there was no escape. Forcing Cooper to eject as the Ranger disintegrated. "Jesus," Amelia whispered, gooseflesh prickling along her arms as her stomach clenched into a churning knot. The words she'd flung at Coop when he'd first arrived echoed in her head, and once again she was reminded knowing the theory was only the halfway point to comprehension, reality sometimes charting a far different course.

Another page in, entitled, 'They Chose Her.' The drawing was divided into two sections, with a young, tearful Murph placing a watch on a shelf, most likely in the girl's bedroom. The other half was about thirty years later, with an older Murph retrieving the watch from the same bookcase, gaze tilted down toward the watch's face, expression one of stunned realization. Amelia shook her head, amazed at how easily Cooper was able to link feelings to expressions of his subject matter in this medium. They felt real, almost as if she reached out and touched the picture, she'd be literally touching the past.

Eyes beginning to brim, she quickly folded down to what seemed to be the last sketch. Amelia swallowed hard, a lump wedging itself in her throat, tears slipping between her lashes as she bit down on her lower lip. If she'd been stunned by the previous drawings, this one completely shocked her to the core. Her face…here on the page, it was beautiful. Amelia had always considered herself a bit plain. Nicely balanced features, but nothing special. Not that she'd really minded, in her profession brains hit the jackpot more than a pretty face. But in Cooper's hands, it became much more. Her eyes were wide and luminous, filled with wonder and awe, lips parted slightly as her gaze fixed on something beyond the frame's edge, something amazing. Her fingers were raised and half-curled, and it didn't matter she was in a spacesuit, her glowing expression of wonder was so achingly present, so stunning, it stole her breath away. Amelia felt the tears begin in earnest now, rolling down her cheeks as the meaning hit her. This happened while she'd been aboard the Endurance, when she'd seen something out the view port as the ship had traversed the wormhole. But Cooper had been in the pilot's seat, not down where she and Rom had been sitting, he couldn't have seen her when it happened.

Yet the beautiful flowing lines and exceptional detail told her otherwise. Her reflected features perfectly mirrored how she had felt in that moment—the thrill of discovery buzzing her insides, the thought of 'them' and participating in a sort of monumental first handshake had excited her beyond measure. Only now, the evidence drove home an obvious conclusion. Her breath hitched in a sob, and Amelia gasped, "Oh, God, Coop, it was you. I was reaching out to you! How? How is that possible?"

To Be Continued…

A/N: Okay, a little short, but it seemed easy to break here. And A.H. is the epitome of Hollywood beauty. I'm writing what her character thinks. Just saying, so no one gets the wrong idea. And as for Cooper being an artist, I figured as an engineer, he'd have at least some graphic drawing skills, just decided to put in an added talent, something he'd done as a kid, but took back up again while stuck recuperating on the station. Don't know when I'll get the next chapter done, RL has been very hectic.


End file.
